


Adamant

by skywaterblue



Series: Josh Lyman Mutantverse Fics [1]
Category: The West Wing, X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Crack, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2009-11-20
Updated: 2009-11-20
Packaged: 2017-10-03 11:16:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skywaterblue/pseuds/skywaterblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He didn't even notice the black Bentley pulling up to the corner, until a tall man stepped out. Even if the door hadn't shut without the gloved hands touching it, Josh would have recognized his grandfather anywhere. He was the only man in the world Josh knew who still wore a hat, like out of some late night oldie movie. He struggled to his feet, knees protesting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Adamant

**October 9th, 1978**

Josh straightened his legs and lifted himself from sitting to crouching, and then to standing on the frame of his ten-speed. The bike rolled slowly down the pavement, propelled by gravity, leaves shattering under the wheels. After a moment, he peeled his fingers off the cool metal of the brakes and spread them out. Beside him, Jenny Paulson laughed, "That's not that cool."

And with that, he lost his balance.

His palms met the pavement, hard, followed by his knees. The bike itself fell onto his calves, chain biting into in his jeans. Josh swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth and closed his eyes, counting to ten. He wasn't hurt. He wasn't hurt. He wasn't hurt.

"Josh?" He heard Jenny brake, and throw the kickstand on her own bike. It made a sharp grinding noise against the pavement, irritating him beyond measure. A moment later she was pulling at the lapel of his jacket, "God, are you okay?" He figured she was trying to either get him to stand or pull him out of the street. He screwed his eyes closed tighter, and pulled himself up to bat her hands away. When he brushed her, despite himself, he could feel her. She was afraid. "Josh? Say something?" Her hands were pulling at him again.

"Stop touching me," he snapped, pushing at her hard.

She took a step back and stuffed her hands in her jacket, face turning white. "Jesus, I was just trying to see if you were okay. I thought you hit your head on the pavement and scrambled your brains even more." He flipped himself over while she spoke, wiggling out from under his bike, and scooting towards the sidewalk. With one hand, he dragged the bike after him.

"I'm _fine_," Josh answered. It wasn't true. He hurt, all over, but -- but.

Jenny squinted at him, "I could go get your mom."

Josh opened his eyes, dully staring at his hands and then looked over at her. "NO." The anger flooded up from deep inside, drowning out all the pain in his knees and wrists. It snapped and pulled at him, and finally he couldn't keep it inside anymore. He let it loose, tearing and shredding like a knife at her pity and concern. "Go _away_."

It was too easy. Jenny's nostrils flared and she threw back her head. "You're such a _freak_, Josh. You know that? All the other girls think so too." She hopped back on her bike and with one last angry look over her shoulder, shouted, "I'm not coming to your stupid party tomorrow EITHER!"

Furiously, she peddled back up the side street back to their school, and Josh waited until she rounded the corner to back up against the cinder block wall and pull his knees up to his chest. They were scraped, jeans torn through. Maybe if he slunk home before his mother got back from the caterers, he could hide them in his closet. He worked on the idea as he picked embedded gravel out from his palm.

He had really been hoping Jenny, or anyone normal from school, would come. Now it was just going to be him, his parents, their friends, and the geeks and social outcasts of his Hebrew school classmates.

"Crap."

He didn't even notice the black Bentley pulling up to the corner, until a tall man stepped out. Even if the door hadn't shut without the gloved hands touching it, Josh would have recognized his grandfather anywhere. He was the only man in the world Josh knew who still wore a hat, like out of some late night oldie movie. He struggled to his feet, knees protesting.

Ten paces away, his grandfather stopped, and lifted the brim of the hat out of his eyes. He was always polite like that, Josh thought. Even from here, Josh could feel him looming. It was the same feeling as laying your hands on one of the electrical generators in the school's basement. A deep, unsettling vibration, the kind that made your skin break out in goose-pimples. "Aren't you going to say hello?" He asked.

"I'm not supposed to talk to you." Josh said, with a nervous glance at the car. His grandfather's friend was sitting in the passenger seat. He reached for his bike.

His grandfather's blue eyes followed the movement of his hand, and raised his own gloved one. "Says who?"

The bike became too heavy for him to pick up, and Josh felt dizzy, spots swimming against his vision. He pulled his hand away and rubbed it, fiercely. "My parents? The State of Connecticut. Probably New York and New Jersey too."

"Did they _really_ file charges?" His grandfather asked, and clucked under his breath. Josh wondered what he was feeling, but his grandfather was even better than the man in the car at keeping locked up inside. "Charles and I never forced you to come with us."

That was true. Josh shrugged and looked at his feet, feeling ashamed. He should have stood up for his grandfather and Mr. Xavier, he knew that. He should have told his parents the truth, but -- "I wanted to come home. I never wanted to go to the school, I just wanted to stop having the nightmares, and feeling things I shouldn't... I don't want to be better at it. I want to stay here and be normal." His Schwinn rolled over to his grandfather's side, and with a rotating motion of his index finger, the metal bits to the axle to the front wheel flew into his hand. Josh frowned, "What are you doing to my bike?"

"Fixing it," His grandfather answered, crouching down and rolling the wheel over. He pinched the bent spokes between his fingers, running them up slowly and straightening the metal. "Is that what your mother said? That if you stay here, and keep quiet, you can be /normal/?" His grandfather pulled his hands back, and the wheel stood on it's own, then rolled backward, the frame rising to match it. The parts levitated in the air, dancing in a complex spiral, as his grandfather motioned them back into place with all the grace of a classical conductor. Josh wondered why he'd thought that. It was a strange metaphor, and it tickled at the back of his head before somehow becoming less important.

"No," Josh answered, taking a step back. "She didn't need to say it."

His grandfather's head turned sharply, and it seemed like the whole world stood at attention to him. His eyes were as cold as ice. "_Didn't she?_"

Josh swallowed and found his eyes captured. He wished he could look up for Mr. Xavier. Mr. Xavier had been good at calming his grandfather down the week he'd stayed with them. He struggled to stay calm, and counted. One, two, three... "I don't want to have abilities. I just want to be me."

His grandfather huffed, "Your gifts are you, Joshua. If you knew how to _use_ them, that girl-- you could make her like you. No one in your class would laugh at you ever again. And your _mother_, if she'd known how--" He stopped oddly in the middle of his sentence and grimaced. Josh found his hold on him broken and looked up, to see Mr. Xavier looking straight into him. He was certain that it had been Mr. Xavier who made his grandfather stop, and wished he hadn't. He'd never seen his mother show any of the X-powers that his grandfather and friend were so keen on using all the time. He knew she had to have them, just like he did, and... and... and she had to have them too.

"It wouldn't be right." Josh answered him, as boldly as possible.

His grandfather was being mollified by Mr. Xavier now, he was sure. "And your mother says so?"

"And Mr. Xavier." Josh said, and stepped closer, quickly. "Can I have my bike back? I'm going to be late and she's going to worry."

The bike didn't budge, but his grandfather did stand up, hands lifting the collar of his overcoat up against the cold wind. "It's your birthday tomorrow. I came to bring you a gift." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver necklace, holding it out onto his palm. Josh looked up at him, and frowned. After a moment, he stepped forward, and picked it up as quickly as possible. Disturbingly, his grandfather felt inhuman, under his skin. As if looking deeply at a polished metal surface and only seeing your reflection returned. He blinked, and examined the necklace itself. It was a Star of David-- as if he hadn't been given plenty of those lately.

This one was different, somehow. It wasn't bright silver, but darker like gunmetal, and heavy. The surface was buffed with an intricate pattern that reminded Josh of feathers. All the sharp points had been dulled and rounded. Despite the October chill, it was warm against the palm of his hand. It felt right, like it had been meant to belong to him and him alone. "You made this for me?"

"It's pure adamantium. The hardest material in the universe." His grandfather explained, "It doesn't occur in nature. The United States government has scientists in Los Alamos working night and day on replicating more of it. They want to _weaponize_ it." He pulled his gloves back on, adjusting each finger pointedly. "Can you imagine, a thing like that?"

He ran a finger down the surface and smiled, "And you made it for me?"

"I want you to remember who you are. Who you _really_ are, not just who your mother and father want you to be."

He ran his finger down the center, and around a curved point, and thought about that. "Mom and Dad are going to be mad, if they know you were here talking to me." Josh looked up at him, and curled his hand around the Star, then tucked it into his pocket, snapping the button closed.

His grandfather raised an eyebrow, "Then it'll be our little secret." He took a step away from him, and adjusted the brim of his hat over his eyes.

"Yeah," Josh decided, reaching forward to grab his bike seat. "Thank you."

"Keep it safe." His grandfather said, already turned around and heading for the car. Josh grabbed his bike by the seat, and waited, until it went slack in his hands. Then he slid up onto the seat, to watch his grandfather back the car out from the side street, and turn the corner. Just like that, Josh thought, and swallowed. If he started right now, he could catch up to them at the light, tell his grandfather that he had changed his mind and wanted to go to their school after all. Something, though, reminded him that it wasn't a good idea, that he should stay here with his parents. He couldn't even really remember why he had run away to Westchester the first time.

With a sigh, he kicked up the kickstand, peddling off through the thick leaves in the gutter to make his way home. His mother really would be worrying.

**Author's Note:**

> I started a novella-length story which will now likely never be finished. The concept was that Josh Lyman was Magneto's grandson, gifted with mutant powers of his own that he was trying to deny. Had I finished it, this story would be a prequel to that novella, but as it stands there are only two extant stories in this universe.
> 
> [Dreamwidth Archived Version](http://skywaterblue.dreamwidth.org/462132.html#comments)


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